


Something A Little More

by writerseventeen



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Peter's poor but its all ok, Seduction, Sugar Daddy, Wade Wilson's rich, Wade's nice ass apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerseventeen/pseuds/writerseventeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wakes up in Wade's apartment after being injured. He discovers three things about Wade: <br/>1. He has a nice apartment. <br/>2. He's rich as hell. <br/>3. He can give Peter what he wants...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something A Little More

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea in my head for such a long time haha so Peter and Wade aren't in an established relationship in this story but they've been friends for a long time and are really comfortable around eachother. Obviously, things heat up.

 

Okay, the situation was quickly escalating. The fight had begun with only about ten gang members but then a distressed call had been made and forty seven armed men surrounded him. Peter’s senses were rapidly becoming overwhelmed to the point where he could hardly focus on anything at all.

 

The typically subdued buzzing of his spidey sense was blaring wildly in his head. The sense of danger felt as though it was physically pushing against Peter’s skull, urging him to look left then right then up then down then duck then kick then punch then… then.. then… Peter had never been moving so fast in his life; he could hardly keep up with all the knives and bullets and fists being thrown at him. Adrenaline was shooting so fast through his veins. He didn’t even feel the need to blink.

 

Typically, he would pull his punches against normal people. Too hard of a hit could easily kill someone, but presently, Peter could hardly register who or what he was even punching. His surroundings were all a blur, his body dodging and fighting based on pure reflex. He felt out of control in his own body. He was hyperaware of his heart beating, each erratic pulse feeling like heaving breaths, his entire frame quaking with each beat.

 

When it was all over, Peter was a hundred percent positive he was vibrating- like aggressively vibrating. His pupils were shot. Light was flooding in from all different angles. He had a hard time seeing things clearly for more than a second and he couldn’t feel his arms or legs.

 

He told himself to breath, willing himself to calm down and slow his sympathetic nervous system. He minored in biology; he knew what was up. When he felt his heart rate decrease by a couple hundred beats and his vision sharpened, Peter could tell he was definitely injured.

 

There was a sharp, throbbing pain in his upper left shoulder. The ache was all too familiar, that of a bullet. Damn, he had been 123 days without being shot and now his streak was broke. He pressed his right palm over the bleeding wound, red liquid seeping through his gloved fingers and _damn that hurt._  

 

He looked around for an inconspicuous exit route but all his eyes cold focus on was the myriad of knocked out bodies all around him. Upright in the center of all the bodies, he felt like a standing target. Peter awkwardly limped over the miscellaneous limbs strewn out across the pavement. There was a light from a nearby street post but other than that- the night was doing its job pretty well.

 

Peter accidently stepped on at least twelve arms and fifteen legs on his way out and one torso. When he pulled away from the crowd, he felt exhausted and light headed. He meant to lean against one of those steel cargo boxes but ended up flinging his body roughly against it.

 

“Ah fuckkk,” seethed Peter, clutching his wound even tighter.

 

No way could he swing away in this sort of condition. Grimacing, he bit his lip and looked around. He could climb on top of the cargo boxes; they were pretty tall- about twenty by thirty feet. The police would be arriving soon and Peter didn’t want to stick around for all the questioning and arrests.

 

He walked up towards the side of one and reached up his right arm. Thankfully, his sticking ability was not impaired by his injuries and he painfully scaled the metal box, each movement causing a re-instigation of hurt that had his senses reeling. When he finally reached the top, he was ready to pass out, blood loss taking its toll on him. He took a deep breath and was ready to fling his way out of the crime scene but then-.

 

“Babe, we have got to stop meeting like this.”

 

Deadpool was casually kneeling on one knee across from him. He wasn’t even looking at Peter, his masked face angled downwards at the sniper beside him. His right forearm resting over his right knee, his left arm pre-occupied with skillfully disassembling a sniper rifle and placing it back in its casing.

 

“We,” heaved Peter, “Have never met like this.”

 

Peter probably shouldn’t have wasted his energy being smart with Wade but he couldn’t help it. It was like second nature to him.

 

Wade slung the packaged weapon over his broad shoulders. “We haven’t? Well, first time for everything.”

 

“How,” gasped Peter, lungs dry, “Long have you been here?”

 

Wade stood up, sometimes Peter forgot how tall the mercenary was. Wade’s impressive silhouette blocked the light from the street post behind him. Peter could hardly make out the details on Wade’s suit in the dark.

 

“Mm… like thirty seven minutes?” Wade replied.

 

Peter gave him a dead stare. He could feel his body temperature rising.

 

“You’ve,” exhaled Peter, “Been here thirty seven freaking minutes and you,” panted Peter, “Didn’t feel the need to help?! Like at all?!”

 

Wade threw up his hands in defense.

 

“Hey now,” spoke Wade pointing a finger at Peter, “Who was it that told me he could ‘take care of himself?’ And besides, you looked like you had it under control. You were on fire Spidey, taking out guys left and right. It was impressive quite frankly.”

“I was not under control Wade! I hardly knew what was going on! I’ve never felt like that,” Peter admitted guiltily.

 

Wade did not pick up on the hero’s upset mood.

 

“Hm, sounds interesting.”

 

Peter glared at him. Wade took a few cautious steps towards him.

 

“Look, I came here to take out the gang. You know damn well when I say ‘take out’ I mean kill, which you outwardly don’t approve of. So I get here to see you already kicking ass and I figured, why risk Spidey getting mad at me for killing people again? So I just sat this one out, but I did have your back! My sniper was all assembled and ready to go- just in case,” explained Wade, patting the weapon holstered across his back.

 

Peter sighed, his anger fading away. He really had no good reason to be mad at Wade; the guy was refraining from making Peter mad- by refraining from shooting people. Peter appreciated the… gesture?

 

To be honest, Peter acted like Wade constantly annoyed him but secretly, he missed the mercenary when he was away. Wade was good company… and okay, somewhat nice to look at. I mean c’mon 6’3 of well- defined muscle, good humor, and a dangerous reputation… Peter couldn’t resist.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be in Wakanda right now.”

 

Wade’s face brightened. “Oh yeah that job was a doozy. I tracked the thieves there for a day, they were sloppy. Took them out real fast and got out of there. Wakanda’s not so friendly to foreigners.”  

 

Suddenly, Peter felt light headed. He felt like his brain disappeared and his head was filling with helium. He felt faint, really faint. “Realllyyy?” drawled Peter, slowly losing consciousness.

 

The last thing he heard were footsteps rushing towards him and Wade’s concerned voice, “Spidey you’re not lookin’ so good…”   

 

* * *

 

When Peter woke up, he felt a lot better. His brain was back, and his wound had closed up. His mask was off but the rest of his suit was still on and he was lying on perhaps the most comfortable couch he had ever lied on.

 

He was about to drift back into dream land when his eyes snapped open- because holy shit he was in the _nicest_ apartment he had ever seen.

 

The room around him was extremely spacious and stylishly designed. He was resting on a white, cushioned couch with dark grey and black pillows. The ceiling above held a crystal chandelier that dangled about fifty feet above him, emanating a soft glowing light. There was a glass table to the right of him, placed on top of a cool grey mat that protected the porcelain tile flooring from scrapes. The whole apartment was modern in style with sleek, black surfaces and transparent decorations. The whole right side of the room was furnished with thirty foot tall windows that overlooked New York City. Peter was mesmerized by the view and got up, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and looked out the window while resting the flat of his hand against the cool glass.

 

“Wow,” Peter whispered, awed at the sight of New York’s skyscrapers eye-level with him, some of their windows lit up and others dark. He pressed his nose against the glass to get a better view of the streets below him. Shops were so small from so high up and the people really did look like ants.

 

“Enjoying the million dollar view?” spoke a voice behind him.

 

Peter whipped around to see Wade leaning against the kitchen counter, elbows propped up, and eyes glistening with amusement.

 

“Yeah, it’s…” began Peter, “Wait, do you fucking live here?”

 

The merc tapped his fingers once against the counter top before standing up and rounding the corner. He strolled over towards the windows with both hands in his sweatpants’ pockets. He was wearing a plain, white t-shirt that was a tad too tight in the abdomen and bicep area. Peter watched him approach with a calculating stare.

 

Wade looked relaxed and comfortable. His cologne smelled nothing like the cheapness of Axe or Old Spice. It smelled expensive, like aged rosemary combined with smoked wood. He came up to stand beside Peter, brushing shoulders with the younger hero.

 

“Yep,” Wade supplied simply, nodding once.

 

Peter looked at him disbelievingly, eyes wide. “Seriously Wade? I would have never expected your place to be… well… _this,_ ” spoke Peter, gesturing to his surroundings.

 

“What did you expect?” asked Wade, turning around to lean back against the window. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looking down at Peter with a fond, interested expression on his face.

 

“Well… first off- answer me this: are you loaded?”

 

Wade chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Well yeah duh. I’m Deadpool, I have a hundred percent kill slash success rate. Employers want to know the job will get done and I’m kind of the best so… I charge whatever the hell I want and people pay it,” Wade disclosed with a shrug.

 

Peter was kind of impressed. Okay, he was impressed. “That must be nice…” said Peter, thinking about his meager savings and the minimum wage he earned over at the Bugle. “How much do you charge a hit?”

 

Wade bit his lip playfully. “What you thinkin’ about hiring me? You wouldn’t be able to afford it babe.”

 

Peter shoved him and rolled his eyes. “I know. I’m just a poor college student with a humble photographer position at a dying newspaper business who earns a whopping seven bucks an hour.”  

 

“Tisk, tisk what a sad existence you live,” teased Wade.

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

“A shame, with your abilities you could make a successful mercenary no problem, and not to mention rack in major dough,” pointed out Wade.

 

Peter looked up at Wade slyly. “How much money we talkin’?” asked Peter in a hushed dramatic tone. Wade played along, scanning the room, pretending to make sure there was no one ‘listening in.’

 

“Hundreds of thousands, and when you get really good at it,” paused Wade, leaning down to whisper right in Peter’s ear, “Millions.”

 

A shiver traveled down Peter’s spine at the sound of Wade’s deep voice. It was so easy to fall into flirtatious territory with Wade. Neither ever really blatantly stated their attraction for one another but their desire manifested itself in conversations… and sometimes actions.

 

Peter turned his head to face Wade, whose lips were only mere inches away. He put on his most innocent face, brown eyes widening up at Wade. He whispered softly against the mercenary’s lips. “Mm millions huh?”

 

Peter dragged a teasing finger down the side of Wade’s cheek, tantalizingly slow, moving even lower to catch on Wade’s lips before curling under the merc’s chin and nudging him closer. Wade’s eyes darkened and his hands moved to grip the younger man’s hipbones possessively.

 

He swiftly pulled Peter flush up against him, one hand going to the small of Peter’s back and the other resting right above his butt. Instinctively, the young hero’s hands splayed out across the mercenary’s lower abdomen, fingers pressing and feeling the hard muscle there. Peter’s head was tucked under Wade’s chin comfortably and Wade moved his head to press a tender kiss to Peter’s shoulder, “Yeah baby, you don’t even need to do anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

 

Peter felt his arousal spiking. God, Wade was so good at taking him apart, but Peter wouldn’t cave that easily. He liked playing hard to get.

“You’d get me whatever I want?” murmured Peter silkily against Wade’s collarbone, running his tongue teasingly along the fragile bone there.

 

Wade groaned against his neck. “Yes Petey of course, anything for you,” reaffirmed Wade, roughly pulling on the sleeve of Peter’s suit, exposing the younger man’s bare shoulder to the cold air. Peter inhaled sharply at the sensation but then Wade’s mouth began pressing hot kisses to his skin. Peter sighed happily, moving one hand to grip firmly behind the nape of Wade’s neck, keeping him in place.  

 

Peter ran his tongue along the shell of Wade’s ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “I need a new camera Wade, and it’s a couple hundred, will you get it for me?” asked the younger man sweetly.

 

Wade sucked a hickey into Peter’s neck while moving his hands down to squeeze Peter’s ass. “Yeah o’course, that’s no problem beautiful.”

 

The taller man pulled back to look Peter in the eyes. He began leaning in for a kiss but the young hero stopped him with a hand to his chest. Wade looked down at the hand and back up at Peter confused.

 

“I need new materials for my web shooters but it’s a couple thousand. Will you buy them for me?” Peter questioned, reaching behind himself to place his hands atop Wade’s, urging the mercenary to squeeze his ass harder and he did.

 

“Oh god, yes Pete. I told you anything you want, you don’t need to ask me twice.”

 

Peter smiled wide at Wade before smothering Wade’s lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

*The Next Day*

 

Peter perfectly placed his new Nikon camera against a ledge, poised and ready to take the perfect picture. Pulling down his mask, Peter dramatically swung around a building using his new web shooters. He thinks of Wade and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you guys think? Do you guys like wealthy, slightly-cocky, and hot as hell Wade Wilson as much as I do? Comment and let me know what you thought!! All feedback is welcome!! Seriously though, comments fuel my writing:) Thanks so much for reading<3


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